


He was a Krimzon Guard

by snarechan



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-24
Updated: 2006-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place before Jak II. For those left behind, the war was only beginning. But he could handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He was a Krimzon Guard

**Author's Note:**

> In response to Riona's request for KG love over at the jak fanfics LJ community. Not quite sure if this what she had in mind when she wanted the Krimzon Guard to have some recognition, buuuuuut this was what first came to my mind.
> 
> After it's all said and done, there's not a whole lot I can say about this work. It's different and, without a doubt, something I'm not used to writing. Something I didn't think I could write. I can't even say if I'm proud of it, and I had my doubts about even posting it, but Cassandra Cassidy (my beta reader), is convinced it's good, so it can't be all bad?

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

The outer wall, it was supposed to hold. He remembered the Baron promising this. It was strong, it was thick, and it was impenetrable by any means. Their leader had guaranteed it on so many occasions, reassuring his men and the masses that no force imaginable could break through it, that he'd been fooled like the rest of them.

The wall was decades old, and the power gave out; _something happened that wasn't supposed to_.

Still, he was a Krimzon Guard. From the age of 18, he'd been treated not as an adult, but as a soldier. He was a tool, a killing machine, bred to be rough and prepared for everything. There wasn't anything he, #34769, couldn't handle.

Except that things don't always go as planned.

" _Are you nervous?"_

" _About what?"_

" _The metal heads."_

" _Nah, it's probably just a bogus call. Metal heads can't just come into the city."_

But they did, and not just a couple at a time. They came in hordes, in all shapes and sizes and colors and deadliness. Dark eco clouds slithered like a fog along the ground, poisoning the earth and those who got so much as a whiff of it. The metal heads flew overtop them, dropping down like suicide bombers. Some fired from a distance, taking them out one by one without giving the men they killed a chance to see what hit them, while others came right at them, charging like tanks and just running them over like they weren't even there. Just like the wall hadn't been.

They were everywhere, cutting civilians off and taking down every man, woman, and child that got in their way. Guns were useless, bullets bouncing off their metal shields, and the invisible ones…they were the worst. They were upon you before you could even scream, though many tried. Their cut-off yowls of pain and despair rang through the air like shots from a canon, going off all at once to ring in his ears like a never-ending siren.

He didn't know what to do at all.

" _Fall back! FALL BACK!"_

" _What?"  
_

" _There's no use defending this part of the city; it's through!"_

He'd tried. He'd tried to run, to escape the killing and the violence and all the death. But it was all around him in the form of still-running zoomers with half-propped-up drivers in their seats, armored bodies covering the streets like a red carpet, the few metal heads that had been knocked a couple times too many snapped at his heels with their gaping jaws while laying in pools of their own blood…

Sometime through the fighting back and running for his life, he'd been hit in the back. The charred mark burned along his spine, indicating dark eco infection spreading along bone marrow and skin tissue like an acidic disease. The sensation didn't go away as it ate through his armor and clothes, a constant reminder of his imminent death.

Tears of pain and sorrow pricked at his eyes behind his yellow visor, blurring his vision as he weakly lifted his head to eye the door – _the_ door. The new barrier. The first door was just jarred open, gears, switches, and other mechanics clanking as the several-inch-thick metal plate started to slide into place. He was so close, the sight of people rushing to save their own lives disappearing into the void that is Haven City. Fellow soldiers stared back at him, firing off rounds at approaching metal heads, making sure that at least they'd have somewhere safe to hide as they ran past.

His breath suddenly stuck in his throat, the warm sensation of blood starting to trickle up his windpipe as the pain almost became unbearable, causing him to duck his head for a moment. This was no way to die. If he stayed here, he'd be eaten alive or slowly whither away. He was probably too damaged to be cured or even spared, but like hell he was going to be left behind like the Baron's refuse.

Lifting one gloved hand, he dug his fingers into the soil, using every last ounce of his strength to literally drag himself forward, propelling himself an inch closer at a time. He'd use his bare teeth if he had to. But the door! It was halfway closed, and he just a couple feet away. There was no way he was going to make-

Something firmly latched onto his shoulder, startling him out of his concentration. Looking up over to his right, he saw a face he thought he'd never see again, especially when the Baron had ordered everyone out of there. Even through the nicks and blood seeping from claw marks and slices along his face and body, he knew who it was.

"C-commander Torn…" he managed weakly, his voice even more raspy behind his gas mask.

Seeing that he was alive, Torn heaved him up by the waist, ignoring the dark substance of mixed blood and eco trailing along his back as it stuck to his wrist guard, slinging an arm around his shoulders. The other man didn't reply as he half carried and half dragged him towards the door, his face hard-set behind his own gear. The sounds of bolts grinding into place and growls from behind alerted them that they didn't have much time.

By the time they'd managed to get there, there was just barely enough room for the both of them to squeeze through. Torn made to push him in first when, to their horror, the outer door got stuck. Metal creaked and snapped as the mechanisms began to shut down, ceasing its closure and, consequently, not keeping the remaining metal heads out.

"Move it, soldier; I'll keep them at bay until you-"

"It's too late for me," he interrupted calmly, the searing wound on his back a distant memory now in face of this revelation. "Give me your gun; I'll do it."

"That wasn't a request!" Torn snapped, setting him to the side against the wall to free up his hands. Ripping open a hidden side panel, he frantically started tearing up red and blue wires, reattaching yellow and purple ones. "But if you insist, cover my back with this."

Taking but a moment to toss him a standardized rifle, he caught it with shaking hands, propping the butt of it on his shoulder to steady his aim. He wasn't sure how much longer he had, but in the meantime, he shot at anything that moved. The sounds of Torn's curses and hands frantically working to re-wire the system filled in the space that wasn't taken up by the screeches his gunshots created when they connected with a certain Stinger or Grunt.

As the minutes ticked by, he realized that he was scared. Truly, deeply, absolutely scared. He was only 20-years-old; he had a girl inside there somewhere, along with what was left of his family… He didn't want to be without them, even while in the army he'd been there with them one way or another, but he knew if he didn't do something, he wouldn't have anything to go back to.

So despite his fears he'd face those sons-of-bitches head on, gun a-blazing, and show them why a soldier of Haven City is supposed to be feared.

With a deafening crunch of the outer door returning to life, he knew what he had to do.

"The Baron…he left us all to die. But you…Haven City needs more people like you. Can you promise me something, Commander?"

"Stop talking like you're already dead!"

"Oh, but I am. So promise me, sir, that you'll never forget my sacrifice."

And as he shoved Torn back into the city, the door cutting off whatever order he had lingering on his lips, he turned to face the onslaught of monsters that had finally caught up with him. He let off round after round, destroying every single threat his trigger-finger could lock on to.

He was fearless, and tough, and everything he'd been trained to be.

-Fin-


End file.
